Eckhart's Apprentice
by Mr. Thumbsup
Summary: Four years after Eckhart's death, Ed and Al leave War-torn Germany for their world. However, what they find isn't so different from the world they just left. First Series, Post-Movie. Pairings to be decided later.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **_**Fullmetal Alchemist **_**and the majority of characters described herein are property of Hiromu Arakawa. Luther Svenhurst and other OC's belong to me. Hitler and the other Nazi's belonged to themselves, I suppose.**

**Alright, ladies and gentlemen, I've been planning this fanfic out for several years. I'm finally putting it down, hope you enjoy! I'm sorry if there are any inaccuracies in this chapter- I'm much of an expert on World War II.**

**Also, yes, Luther Svenhurst is the Ringmaster that looks like Frank Archer from CoS. This chapter takes place before the Nazi's rose to power in Germany, when they were still hailed as just another political party.**

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_November 6__th__, 1923_

_South Germany_

_Headquarters of the Nazi Party_

_Two Days before the planned Invasion of Shamballa and the Beer Hall Putsch_

Luther Svenhurst considered himself a very lucky man.

In the past three years, he had risen higher than he had ever dreamed he could. Three years ago, he had been the head of a small, failing carnival, deep in debt, chased by loan sharks. Many a night had gone by where he contemplated fetching a rope from the supplies and making a noose.

Then one day, the woman who had changed his life entered his office.

Dietlinde Eckhart had asked him what he knew of the occult. In that instant, Luther Svenhurst had sensed a kindred spirit in Eckhart. Like her, he held a deep fascination with the occult; psychic powers, premonitions, the Ark of the Covenant- Luther Svenhurst lived and breathed for them.

On that day, Eckhart had offered membership in their political party, a small group known as the Nazi Socialist German Workers Party. She took Luther Svenhurst to their headquarters, and introduced him to their leader. This man, Adolf Hitler, had left his desk and shook Luther Svenhurst's hand.

The Nazi Doctrine fascinated Luther Svenhurst. He had at first used them as a quick tool- the Nazi Party may have been small, but they were wealthy. The second he had signed on to the party, his debts had disappeared. The loan sharks stopped coming. However, this man Hitler's idea of a supreme race soon drew him in.

As the weeks turned into months, and months into years, Luther Svenhurst found himself growing deeper into the Nazi Party. Dietlinde Eckhart herself took him under her wing. She taught him everything she knew of the occult. Luther Svenhurst had found himself quite surprised- before he met Eckhart, he had considered himself an expert of the occult. Eckhart introduced to a world that made his previous knowledge look quite novice.

He learned of Shamballa, the land beyond lands. Eckhart spoke of it in such an enraptured voice that Luther Svenhurst soon joined her enthusiasm. He was inducted into the Thule Society in a candlelit ceremony, on a quiet night last year.

Then one day, the bearded man had arrived. He claimed that he himself had come from the land of Shamballa, and was seeking passage back. He called himself Hohenheim. He taught Eckhart more secrets of Shamballa, and in turn, she taught them to Luther Svenhurst.

Luther Svenhurst was in an ecstasy of knowledge. He ran his carnival, but only as a side job. What use was there for carnivals when there was the Party? All he needed in his life were two individuals.

The Fuhrer, and the Teacher.

Hitler and Eckhart.

Not even the escape of the gypsy girl could ruin his mood. Lieutenant Hess was finding her as he sat here, almost eagerly waiting for tomorrow. Tomorrow, the Fuhrer would march on the beer hall, and rally the militia to march. Within 48 hours, the Party would have the necessary technology from the gate to Shamballa, and would seize power in Germany.

Luther Svenhurst was interrupted from his musings by a knock on the door. He slid his chair back and left his desk.

It was Karl Haushofer, another influential party member. "Luther. The Fuhrer wishes to see you. Personally."

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The party member led Luther Svenhurst through the Nazi's Headquarters. Svenhurst was an expert at keeping his face unchanged by emotion; however, he could not cease the butterflies in his stomach. The Fuhrer wanted to see _him!_ The man that was, to Eckhart, possibly the closest thing to a God, was asking for _him!_

Why would the Fuhrer ask for him? Had something happened to Master Eckhart? Was he being promoted? Fired? Killed?

The party member halted outside of the Fuhrer's door, and indifferently waved him inside. He stalked off, leaving Luther Svenhurst standing outside the Fuhrer's door in his tuxedo. Luther Svenhurst pushed the door open slowly.

The office was cramped and small, and was hot during the summer. Though the room had electric lightbulbs, a single lamp lit the dim room. The lamp rested on the desk that sat in the middle of the room. Behind this desk sat the man that Luther Svenhurst had met only once, and worshiped as a God.

The Fuhrer rose from his desk. He motioned Luther Svenhurst forward. Luther Svenhurst sat in the single chair in front of the Fuhrer's desk. The springs creaked horribly whenever you moved, and tended to grate on the nerves after a while.

Without speaking a word, the Fuhrer produced a bottle of Cognac from under his desk, and two glasses. He poured Luther Svenhurst a glass, and kept the other for himself. The Fuhrer wordlessly walked to the single window, and stared into the inky night.

"You are Luther Svenhurst, are you not?"

Luther Svenhurst nodded.

"How long have you been with the party?"

"About three years, Fuhrer, sir."

The Fuhrer sighed. "Three years. _Gott en Himmel_, that's a lifetime." He took a sip from his glass. "Do you know what happens tomorrow, Svenhurst?"

"Of course, Fuhrer, sir. The Party has planned this for months. Tomorrow, Master Eckhart will use the rocket technology to enter Shamballa and gather the weapons there. We will then use those weapons to march upon the Capital."

"Eckhart has taught you well." The Fuhrer drained his glass in a single gulp. He then turned and asked Luther Svenhurst a question he would never forget.

"Would you do anything for the Party? Could you betray the one you hold dearest to you?"

"I don't follow, Fuhrer, sir."

The Fuhrer set his glass back on his desk. "Eckhart is a fool. A Dinosaur of the days where cavemen smashed their clubs against anything in their path. She will never follow tomorrow's plan.

"I have spoken with Eckhart many times. She fears Shamballa, more than anything else. There isn't a single doubt in my mind that she will not follow the plan. She may likely pretend to, and attempt to destroy Shamballa on her own. The puts me in a predicament, young Svenhurst.

"I could fire Eckhart, or even have her killed. However, it is likely that at least half of the party would resign in her wake. Most of the party are members of the Thule Society, and completely loyal to Eckhart. I could also call off the invasion. This, however, would cause me to lose face with the party members, who would view me as a coward. You can see the paradox of the situation, my young friend."

Luther Svenhurst could feel the tiny tugs of realization at the edges of his brain.

The Fuhrer continued. "The invasion will go as planned. Eckhart shall go on what I fully expect to be a suicide mission. I will lead our men to march as planned. You, however, shall go to Shamballa with the Invasion Team. You will not tell anyone of this, least of all Eckhart. Once there, leave the group. You will create another Nazi Party on the other side. Work as I work. See as I see. It may take many years. When your army has been amassed, reopen the Gate. It should be far easier from that side. When the Gate is reopened, lead your forces back to our side. The party will have at least doubled in size. It may take several years, but I believe it can be done.

"So I ask of you one more time: can you commit yourself to this plan? Can you betray the woman who has taught you everything, for the sake of the Party?"

Luther Svenhurst thought long and hard about what he would say to this. Eckhart trusted him. She confided in him. Luther Svenhurst loved Dietlinde Eckhart as his own mother.

But if Eckhart was his mother, then the Party was his Father.

Luther Svenhurst bowed his head towards the Fuhrer. Four words escaped his lips.

"My Life For You."

He felt the Fuhrer's reassuring palm on his head.

"Good Man."

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**That's all for now. Updates to follow!**


	2. Worn Out Places

**Disclaimer: **_**Fullmetal Alchemist **_**and the majority of characters described herein are property of Hiromu Arakawa and Studio Bones. Luther Svenhurst and other OC's belong to me.**

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_**Four Years Later…**_

Alphonse Elric, age seventeen, stepped out of the darkness of the movie house, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Ed and Noa weren't with him. They had seen this particular film earlier this week. Al had been too busy at the time, so he went today.

The film in question was _Metropolis, _the newest endeavor by their good friend Fritz Land. _Oops, I mean Mabuse,_ Al thought, grinning wistfully. Fritz had insisted that Ed keep calling him Mabuse, even after all they'd been through.

_Metropolis _actually wasn't a half-bad movie. It was about a mad scientist who created a robot. Al has quite liked the scenario. He loved the concept of movies- there weren't such things back home. Movies would be one thing he'd miss when they got home.

_Home,_ He thought to himself. It had been four long years since he had followed his brother into the Gate. For four years, they had searched for that elusive bomb made by Huskisson. How could such a device exist? How could an object the size of a ball have the ability to destroy cities?

How could they have been stupid enough to release Hitler?

Hitler. That beast in man's clothing. The Bavarian Government had released him after serving only nine months of his five-year sentence. He was currently in quite a seat of advisory power for the Bavarians. The Nazi Party was rebuilding, slowly.

Al would have loved to drop that bomb on Hitler, just give him the chance. He was sure Ed and Noa would agree as well.

Four years.

Four long, fruitless years.

He passed by Gracia's flower stand in front of their building. She gave him a quiet wave from inside. He waved back, smiling.

Al liked this world's Gracia. This world's Hughes, not so much. Looser moral standards aside, the man still wouldn't look him in the eye, after four years.

Al knew the reason. It was because he looked like the guy Ed had lived with before Al came along, Alfons Heiderich. Hughes never confronted Al with this, but Al knew what was on his mind. It had taken a while before Gracia could look him in the eye, but at least she became able to.

Hughes and Gracia had gotten married about three years before. He, Ed, and Noa had come. Even there, he could see that certain wounds hadn't healed yet. Noa watched Gracia throughout the entire event, never once putting her eyes on Hughes. At least she had a reason, since Hughes had served that brief stint with the Nazi party.

Since then, Hughes had claimed that he was done with the Nazi's. After that failed attempt to march on the Capital, he claimed he wanted nothing else to do with Fuhrer Hitler. Noa's reaction, upon Ed telling her about this, was a word that Al did not particularly like to say around children.

He slid his key into the apartment door, opened it, closed it behind him. He hung his brown coat on the wall peg, then stopped. He stared at the hanging coat.

Dull Brown. The same color it had been since he bought it.

He much preferred the vibrant red colors of the coat Ed, and later he, had worn for so long. That was what Al hated the most about this world.

Everything was so drab and gray compared to the other side. His world was alive and rich with color. This word's favorite color seemed to be dull gray and drab brown. Even their movies were black and white.

Al suddenly felt a mad urge to rip the coat off the wall and tear it to pieces, stomp on it, burn the tiny leftover shreds. Never in his life had he hated brown more than this moment.

Al sighed, and stepped into the cramped living quarters. On the couch in the corner, Noa slept, a quiet catnap in the middle of a hot summer afternoon. A plate with the remnants of a sandwich sat on the floor next to a book. The crust was still on the plate. Al smiled. Noa hated bread crust.

Al's gaze wandered to the table next to him. A few photographs rested on its surface. In one, Ed, Al, and Noa posed together. It had been autumn two years ago when that one was taken. The snapshot caught Al poking Ed in the cheek. It had been taken during that period two years ago where Ed tried to grow that awful goatee. Noa, Al, and Hughes had ganged up on him and pretty much forced him to shave it off.

In another, Ed stood with Alfons Heiderich. Assorted rocket equipment stood behind them. It was one Al had looked at many times before, marveling at the uncanny resemblance between him and Alfons.

Al reached out and touched the picture. His finger dragged gently down it, making a clean line in the thin layer of dust. He picked up the picture, and walked into the tiny bathroom. Al stared into the mirror, then back to the photo. Mirror, photo.

At this moment, Al was seventeen, the exact age that Alfons Heiderich was when he died. Aside from the hazel eyes, the two were identical in every way.

A _thud _was heard from the bedroom he and Ed shared. Frowning, Al, pushed the door open.

Ed sat at the desk, a book, several papers and a pencil before him. Another book was on the floor, probably what caused the thud. Ed himself was nodding gently. His eyes were closed, and his mouth open. The pencil was in his hand. It gently dragged down the page, making a long mark over Ed's various calculations.

Al smiled. Ed had powered through last night to look these over, except he hadn't stopped at dawn. Al gave Ed a gentle tap on the head with the picture.

Ed snapped awake, a thin line of drool snapping back into his mouth like a whip. "Whuh? Wuh… oh. Hey Al." Ed noticed the line he'd drawn down his paper. With a distressed shriek, he began to carefully erase the line, so not to destroy his calculations.

Al leaned against the bed, setting the picture on the sheet next to him. As it had done many times, his hand reached out to the shelf next to him. On the shelf was a sealed bottle of champagne. Mabuse had given it to them before he left for America. On a string around the neck was a card.

_To Edward and Alphonse; May you find whatever worlds you seek ~Mabuse_

Al's index finger touched the top of the bottle, and began to tilt it back and forth, gently. It was a habit of his. He'd have to find a new one when they finally drank it- they planned to break it out when they found the bomb, or discovered a way home.

Whichever came first.

"How was the movie?"

"Good. I love these movie-things. Maybe we can introduce them when we get back home."

Ed smirked. "Heh. Yeah, good idea."

Al looked down at the floor underneath his feet. Painted on the room's floorboards was an intricate Transmutation Circle- and a familiar one at that. It was the one that Eckhart had used to travel between this world and theirs.

What had she called it? Ah yes- Shamballa. Ed inaudibly snorted in disgust. What a stupid notion. Eckhart truly was a fool. Ed had done a bit of research into the Shamballa legend recently- Buddhist legend claimed that Shamballa was located under Tibet. You would have thought Eckhart would have bothered to do a bit of research. Going to Tibet would have at least been cheaper than commissioning rockets to fly to another world. Ed's world wasn't even _called_ Shamballa!

On a last winter, Al had come home to find the furniture moved into the hall, and that Ed had painted this Transmutation Circle on their floor. When asked about it, Ed had wiped his paint-stained hands and claimed it was for luck. Luck for what? Luck in finding the bomb? Luck in getting home someday? Al didn't know.

And though he would never admit it, Ed didn't really know either.

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_On the other side of the Gate_

_Amestris_

_Central_

_An unknown building_

Trevor Clark was more terrified at this moment than he had been in his entire life. "Please," he begged. "I've only used alchemy for small things! Fix a broken glass, stuff like that! I can't do something like this!"

The walls were lined with men. All of them wore the same expression of indifference.

The Huge Man was the one in charge. His brown skin and red eyes showed his Ishbalan Descent. He was tall enough to be able to look Alex Armstrong in the eye, if he desired such. His biceps were almost as large as Trevor Clark's head, and mud-colored dreadlocks hung from his scalp.

The Huge Man leaned down into Trevor Clark's face. He smiled like the cat who ate the proverbial canary. "Well, my young friend, I suggest you learn quickly. Because, way I see it, you aren't leaving this room until we get what we want."

Trevor Clark began to shake. "B-but you don't understand! I don't know a single thing about the human body? I can't do a Transmutation like this! I've heard the horror stories about failures like this- I would never be able to pull it off!"

The Huge Man grinned again. "Actually, that's what I'm counting on. Here, I'm gonna go over the rules one last time: You try your best to bring back _this _person." He shook a photograph in front of Trevor Clark's face. "If you do it, great, we'll patch you up and send you on yer merry way. If you don't do it, we'll kill your wife, kill your son, and then make you do it anyway. It's entirely up to you, I really don't care which."

Trevor Clark's mouth went dry. He tried to speak, but couldn't even make a noise. Slowly, his hands descended towards the Transmutation Circle written into the ground in chalk.

"God forgive me."

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A universe away, Edward Elric's mouth had also gone dry. He was seeing something he thought he would never see again.

The Transmutation Circle he had drawn into the floor was shimmering.

"Al… do you see…?"

Al nodded. His voice had caught in his throat as well.

The Circle began to emanate light, that light-blue color that Ed had always associated with Alchemy. Red volts of electricity had begun to flash around the edges.

Noa stirred in her spot on the couch. One single eye opened lazily. She was snapped out of her stupor almost immediately. Blue light, a light she had only seen once, four years ago, on that night of November the 8th, was shining under the door.

Ed's papers flew from the desk, disappearing into the Circle. "Why?! Why is this happening now?!"

The door to the room was flung open. Noa dashed in, stopped at the edge of the circle.

Ed began to grab at the remaining papers from his desk. They couldn't go back! Not yet! They still hadn't found Huskisson's bomb! There was so much work to do here!

As if on cue, the black arms from the Gate reached out, wrapping around whatever they could find. Several wrapped around the bed Al was sitting on, and Al barely had time to jump off before it disappeared.

Noa turned to Ed, an arm going over her eyes to shield them from the light. "Edward! Is this… the Gate?"

Ed nodded, raising a hand with the fingers splayed in the _STOP_ position. "Stay away, Noa! I don't know why it's opened now, but-" Ed was cut off as an inky black hand wrapped itself around his throat. With a yank, he was thrown to his feet, and was dragged toward the glowing circle. His fingers dug into the wooden floor, seeking purchase, finding none.

Al saw what was happening and didn't think. He leapt toward his brother. Al's foot reached out, kicked off the bookshelf. His form sprung over the circle. His hand grabbed the single hanging light bulb. With a yank, he swung to the other wall, landing on Ed's desk. Al slid off and grabbed Ed's hand in his in a single motion. The other hand snapped out, clutching Ed's desk leg as tightly as he could.

Meanwhile, Noa was slowly edging her way along the wall. She flattened against its surface, staying as far from the shining circle as she could. Her eyes never left the struggling forms of the two boys she had shared a home with for nearly four years- Ed, a black arm around his waist and neck, his metal hand hanging from Al's.

Noa felt the next wall press into her shoulder. Dodging an arm, she leapt forward. Noa skidded to a halt in front of Ed, grabbing Ed by his other hand. She reached behind her and felt for the same desk leg that Al hung from. Her fingertips brushed against it, and she leaned back and grabbed it, her hand just above Al's. She pulled Ed with all of her might.

They might have had a chance of getting out, if not for the door.

They all heard it before they saw it. The door, left hanging open when Noa dashed in, had a pair of arms around it. The bolts connecting the hinges to the frame began to buckle, and then pop under the pressure. Al realized what was about to happen. He looked around for a place to dodge, but couldn't do anything without relinquishing his hold on his brother.

With a final _pop,_ the door broke free of its moorings. The three watched as it flew towards them. The flying wooden rectangle hit the three of them broadside. Al and Noa felt their hands let go of the desk leg. Too stunned to scream, the three of them tumbled into the circle.

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It was the screaming that woke Ed up.

_Damn it. We came back._

He felt his eyes slowly open. He was lying on his side, on a cold stone floor. A piece of the doorknob lay in front of him.

_Who's screaming?_

Various hushed voices could be heard between the screams. That was when Ed saw him.

The man lay on the ground, on his back. He was dressed in clothes resembling those of a farmer. They were stained with blood. This little fact was easily explained by why he was screaming. He clutched his left wrist in his right hand. His four left fingers and thumb were missing. Blood spewed from the openings.

Still groggy, Ed blinked stupidly.

_How did that happen?_

He turned his head to look to his right. Al and Noa lay there. Various pieces of whatnot pulled from their side were littered around them. Al appeared to still be unconscious. Noa had pushed herself to a sitting position. She rubbed her head and glanced at Ed. He saw her eyes move to behind him.

Noa began to scream. It was a scream uttered only by those who believe, with all their heart, that they have seen hell.

Ed rolled over onto his other shoulder to see. His eyes widened, and his blood ran cold. He felt his mouth run dry again, and his teeth clenched together.

Barely three feet in front of him was a writhing mass of flesh. Bones poked from its skin at random places. An arm shook between an exposed pair of ribs. It face, horrible and inhuman, stared at Ed with unseeing eyes. It hissed, and made a noise that was probably an attempt to scream.

The screaming ass had tried to transmute a human, with obvious results. Everything began to piece together in Ed's mind.

_The Gate opens whenever a Homunculus is born! We had a Gate-Opening Transmutation Circle on our side! THIS STUPID SCREAMING ASS WAS THE ONE THAT BOUGHT US BACK!_

Ed heard a heavy footstep next to his head. "Well, well. Grand Prize, Second, Third, and Honorable Mention all rolled into one."

Ed turned to find the user of the rumbling voice. The first thing he noticed was the giant Ishbalan standing over him.

The second was the military-issue rifle pointed between his eyes.


	3. When People run in Circles

**Disclaimer: **_**Fullmetal Alchemist **_**and the majority of characters described herein are property of Hiromu Arakawa and Studio Bones. Luther Svenhurst and other OC's belong to me.**

**Also, something that was pointed out in a review: Hitler didn't give himself the title of Fuhrer until 1933. However, they referred to him as such in **_**Conqueror of Shamballa**_**, so I will be using it as well.**

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Edward Elric's eyes crossed as he stared at the end of the rifle barrel. He pondered how far the bullet would have to travel to be fatal. One inch would be far too far.

His eyes left the hole at the end of the gun. He stared up at the giant standing over him. His mouth opened, and he asked the first question that popped into his head.

"I thought Ishbalans hated Alchemy."

The Giant blinked, confusion practically written across his forehead in ink. Then he grinned and laughed, a loud and boisterous _Hee-Haw_.

"Ya got guts, kid. And yer smart, too. Yeah, I know where yer comin' from- Alchemy did kill quite a few of my various countrymen. But then again, so did _this._" He motioned the rifle, still pointed at Ed's blonde cranium. "Guns probably killed just as many Ishbalans as yer Alchemy. But why waste a perfectly good tool? And a'course, I'm not gonna give up a hand or a foot when we can just use that fellow over there." The fellow in question had more or less stopped screaming, and had subsided to low moans.

"Now, kid. I've answered yer questions. Why don't you answer mine, us being the good buddies we are 'n all? How the hell did you three come outta that Transmutation Circle? We were expectin' ugly over there, but I'm surprised to see he bought friends." He blinked. "Was that a friend of yours? Cause if he was, sorry."

Ed rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. And there's only one ugly thing in my field of vision."

The Ishbalan Giant sneered. "Cute. Do your friends share your sense of humor? Let's ask 'em." The Giant deftly switched his aim to Noa and the unconscious Al. "How about you, little girl? Do you think I'm ugly?"

Al began to feel the tiny pinpricks of consciousness at the edges of his vision. He was lying on something, making his current position quite uncomfortable. He heard a deep voice speaking. "No? Let's ask your friend here." Al felts himself be nudged with a boot heel, and smelled horrid breath in his nostrils. "Hey kid! You think I'm ugly? Do you?"

Shaking, Noa answered "He's uncon-" The Giant whipped around and backhanded Noa across the face. "Did I ask you a goddam thing, girlie!? Huh?!"

Ed snarled "Don't you touch her, you sick bast-" The Ishbalan pointed the gun at Al's prone form. "Or what? What're ya gonna do? Kill me? If you hadn't noticed, I'm in charge here, and my friends feel like watching." He nodded towards the walls.

Al opened an eye to see what he was talking about. Ed hadn't noticed either, but a men in brown uniforms stood along the walls. All total there were five, maybe six. The Giant would definitely count as two on his own. Al began to think on how they could possibly get out of this situation. He thought he had a good idea of what was digging into his side, and if it was what he thought it was, he thought he might be able to get them out of here. Just as soon as the Ishbalan stopped pointing that rifle at him.

The Ishbalan sneered at Ed again. "Like I said, I'm in charge here. Or have I not made my point?" He turned to Noa. "How about you, girlie? Can you tell me who's in charge here?"

Noa's hand held her red cheek. "You are."

The Ishbalan Giant grinned. "Good girl." He began to study Noa's face intensely. "You seem familiar. Have I threatened you before?"

"I prefer not to become familiar with scumbags like you."

The Giant laughed. "Now see, _that's_ funny. See, kids, we're becoming good friends here! You guys oughta work for us. But I'm getting off topic." He swiveled his aim back toward Ed. "You're gonna tell me how you guys got here, or I'm gonna-"

Al yanked the offending object from under him. "Eat this, you fat freak!"

Ed and the Ishbalan turned to see Al leaping at the Ishbalan. A ribboned bottle of wine was clutched in his hand. With a _clap! _Ed leaned forward and pressed his hands to the floor. He was the only one who didn't see what happened next.

Mabuse's wine connected squarely with the Ishbalan's jaw. It shattered on his chin, showering both him and Ed with fine wine. The momentum of Al's swing continued to drag the broken bottle up his face. His right cheek exploded with pain. Dropping his gun, his hands flew to his cheeks. He roared like a wounded lion. "YOU LITTLE _FUCKER!"_

Alchemic Energy flowed from Ed's hands as stone walls rose on either side of them, creating a hallway to the door that shielded them from the thugs along the walls. Ed grabbed Noa's hand and sprinted through the door. "Thanks, Al."

"Thank Mabuse. Come on, let's get out of here."

The Ishbalan climbed to one knee, still clutching his face. The thugs along the walls appeared at the opposite end of the tunnel. The bloody Giant pointed down the hall towards the door. "You three! Find them and kill two of them! Do it in the street, make 'em serve as an example. Bring the other one back, I don't care which." The three guards charged out the door. The other two set about drawing Transmutation Circles on the two walls.

As the guards deconstructed the walls, the Ishbalan ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth. He felt a screech of pain. The damn brat had opened up his face from mouth to ear.

"Fucking- You, go get me a damn medic. I need to be patched up." The Giant gingerly touched the tips of his fingers to the gash. He twitched as another low moan escaped the fingerless man in the corner. "And will _someone _please get _that _out of here?!"

As the final guard threw the bleeding Trevor Clark over his shoulder, the Giant Ishbalan knelt to the ground. The hissing failed human lay before him, breathing wetly. He gently ran two bloodstained fingers down its misshapen neck. "Shhh. It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay soon." He fished into his pocket and produced a tiny cloth sack, tied with a string. He tossed the string aside and turned the bag upside down, the opening within the thing's grotesque mouth.

Tiny red stones began to pour down the thing's gullet.

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The front door of the building was thrown open as the Brothers Elric and one Roma sprinted out into the street. A moment later, three brown-uniformed soldiers stormed after them.

Al dodged sideways into an alley, his hand around Noa's wrist. Ed's hand grabbed the building corner, forcing his body to do a sharp turn as he swung around. He turned on his heel, and clapped his hands together, producing that familiar loud noise he loved so much. He slapped his hands to the cobblestone ground. A great stone wall rose from the street, blocking the entrance to the alleyway. He pointed with his thumb to the other end. "Let's get going."

The three ran down the alley, shaded by the high buildings. Turning a corner, the alleyway emptied out into a street. Blinding sun shone into their eyes. Pausing for a brief moment, Ed raised his artificial arm above his forehead, allowing his eyes to adjust.

He immediately wished he hadn't. He was met with a horrifying sight.

He hadn't known where they were before now. The alley had emptied out into what had been the main street of Central. From this road, you could see all the way to Central Headquarters. It was exactly the same as Ed had remembered.

With one very noticeable difference.

Central Headquarters had once had two giant green banners featuring the crest of Amestris hanging from each side of the front. Those banners were gone.

In their place were two red banners. Emblazoned upon them was an all-too familiar symbol: the Swastika of the Nazi Party.

How could such a travesty happen? Who allowed these obscenities to be hung from the Capitol? _What in the name of everything decent had happened??_

Ed was suddenly snapped from his horrified thoughts. There was a loud crack. Almost at the same time, Ed felt something hit the back of his right arm like a sledgehammer. He pitched forward, hitting the pavement roughly.

The soldiers had caught up with them.

Al spun. He clapped his hands together instinctively, even as he realized that he wasn't wearing his Transmutation Gloves.

"Don't even think of it, boy," one of the soldiers called. "We'll shoot you if you so much as say 'Equivalent Exchange.'"

Ed's mechanical arm began to shake. The bullet had hit at just the perfect spot that it caused the arm to malfunction spectacularly. Just perfect.

Noa reached down and wrapped her arm around his left shoulder. Al grabbed his right. As they helped him up, Ed looked around. Was no one around? Didn't anyone see people being shot in the street?

Yes, they did. And no, they didn't care. A man in a green trenchcoat with a mustache leaned against a wall, a bouquet of flowers for his girlfriend in his hand. A Nun- God's Sake, a _Nun-_ sat on a bench, a leather-clad Bible in her hands. Neither showed any interest in the show happening in the street.

It made sense, really. Similar violence happened a lot on the other side. These people's reaction was the same: they had grown so used to the violence that they no longer paid attention. They just tuned it out.

_How did this happen,_ Ed thought. _We stopped Eckhart! All of the Thule members that came through were killed!! Why are the Nazis on this side??_

The soldiers were directly in front of them now. Each one pointed their rifle at one of them. One soldier each. Up close now, Ed could see the red armbands around their left arms. Each had the familiar Swastika printed on it.

"You three have caused quite a bit of trouble. But don't worry; one of you gets to live and help the Nazi Party. You oughta be honored. Now, which one'll it be?"

The soldier on the left leered grotesquely. "I say spare the girlie. We oughta have some fun with her, huh?"

The one in charge smacked him upside of the head. "Ass! We're trying to carry out orders, and here you are pulling it out of your pants. Is rape the only thing you think about??"

"Excuse me."

The collective group turned. The Nun had left her bench. She stood before them, her face bowed, Bible in hand. "Far be it from me to question your authority, sir, but what exactly did these three do to warrant a public execution?"

There was a long, silent pause. The Nazi in charge stepped forward and smacked the Nun across the face. "You stay out of this, Sister! Meddle where you aren't wanted, and you'll get to meet your God sooner than you think!"

The Nun clutched her cheek gasping. "You horrible man!" She began to shake her Bible at the soldier. "Repent! Repent your wicked ways! Repent, 'lest you spend a thousand cycles of a thousand years in the fires of hell!!"

Shaking, Noa closed her eyes. She didn't want to see this. The Nazi raised his rifle to point at her. "well, tell you what: save me a spot, I'll be there in forty years."

"LOOK-" Ed began. That first word was as far as he got.

The Nun stepped backwards on one heel, yanking the top of her fake habit off. Ed saw a flash of blonde hair, the shine of a Transmutation.

The Bible in the Nun's hands exploded into a hundred small squares with razor edges. They flew forward, embedding themselves in the Nazis hands, arms, and legs. They cried out in pain, dropping their guns.

The man across the street suddenly pointed his bouquet at them, like a gun. There was a second shine of a Transmutation. The flowers extended rapidly from their thorny stems. The vines wrapped themselves around the Nazis legs, snaking up their bodies, binding their arms behind them.

"Go, go, go!" The Fake Nun grabbed Ed by the ponytail and started running. The man who transmuted the flowers shook Al by the shoulder, then followed the Nun.

The two led the trio through the streets, Ed sputtering questions. Neither of them answered.

The Nun and the man suddenly stopped in front of a house. The Nun slid open the iron Gate, and began to head up the walk.

"Ed?" Al asked. "Isn't this…?"

Ed's eyes widened, realizing what Al was talking about. They were standing in front of the home of Gracia and Elicia Hughes. The home was run down, and had clearly been abandoned for quite some time. The paint was chipped, windows boarded over, the lawn untrimmed. Why were they here?

"Wait!"

The man turned at looked at Ed.

"What makes you think we can trust you?"

The Nun called from the front door. "Aw, c'mon, Ed! Don't tell me you've forgotten me! I thought I made a bigger impression on you!"

Al froze. He knew that voice. The Nun was facing them, giving them their first good look at her.

He had thought that particular alchemy was familiar. And the Transmutation Circle tattooed on her chest was unforgettable.

"Psiren??"

Psiren smiled, slipping off the remains of her fake habit. "The one and only. You're Al, I'm guessing? Good to see you got your body back."

The mustached man grinned. "I didn't know you knew Clara. Now you've got me all insulted, pipsqueak. You don't remember _little_ old me?"

Ed growled. He'd never forget that voice. Al, however, smiled with sudden pleasure. "Russell Tringham! I didn't recognize you under that mustache!"

Russell grinned. "Like it? I thought it made me look more dashing."

Ed leaned into Russell's face. "That's a mustache? I thought a hairy caterpillar had crawled onto your face and died!"

Russell smiled smarmily. "That's all you got? What you'd expect from a whiny little pipsqueak, I guess. Wait…" his eyes narrowed, studying Ed. "You're… taller?"

"DON'T PHRASE IT LIKE A QUESTION!!!"

Noa stood in the background, watching all of this with what is commonly referred to as a Confused Chibi Face. One could almost see the question marks dancing around her head. "Ed? Who are these people?"

Ed's face went _Oh! _As he stopped yelling. "Forget that. What the hell is going on here? Why are there Nazi flags on Central Headquarters? What happened to Mister Hughes' house? How do you two know each other?"

"Enough questions, Fullmetal."

Ed stopped as yet another familiar voice was heard. Al smiled again. "General!"

Roy Mustang stood on the Hughes house's doorstep, clad in the familiar blue uniform of the Amestrian Military. His hair danced around his eyepatch. "Like I said before, way to bring your problems home with you, Fullmetal." All the same, one could see the smile parking around the ends of his mouth.

"This is a war, Fullmetal. And congratulate yourself, 'cause you've just been drafted."

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**So ends chapter three! I was originally going to put another scene onto the end here, that bought Svenhurst back into the story, plus revealed the Ishbalan Giant's name, but it didn't flow very well into this chapter. I'll be putting it at the end of next chapter, because it seems like it'll fit better there. Until then, read and review!**


	4. Svenhurst's Rise

**Disclaimer: **_**Fullmetal Alchemist **_**and the majority of characters described herein are property of Hiromu Arakawa and Studio Bones. Luther Svenhurst and other OCs belong to me.**

**Sorry there was a small delay on this chapter- I got absolutely puking sick on New Years, so I just lay in bed and felt awful for two days. Anywho, enjoy!**

**1-2-3-4-5-4-3-2-1**

Roy Mustang had suffered two major injuries in his life. And he found absolutely effing hilarious that they had both come from the same person.

Technically.

Six years ago, a steel-plated madman named Frank Archer had blinded him in his left eye. Mustang didn't like tell anyone this, but he couldn't hear as well as he used to out of his left ear anymore, either.

Then, fifteen months ago, Roy Mustang had met a world-crossing madman named Luther Svenhurst. He never talked about that particular encounter to anyone, either.

Former General Mustang had taken the brothers Elric plus Noa into the dilapidated Hughes residence. Russell Tringham and Psiren bought up the rear. Once inside, Russell had sealed the door alchemically. The door melted into the frame, then solidified with a _hiss._

Though Edward Elric couldn't possibly know it, Mustang hated that noise. He had used the same array they used daily to seal their door six years ago, to trap King Bradley in his wine cellar. Bradley had nearly killed him. That at least was well-known among his friends and partners.

Mustang led them down into the basement. Ed's eyes, searching around for something to make sense of this whole mess, happened to light upon Mustang's left hand.

Where his pinkie and ring fingers used to be now resided a pair of fleshy stumps. The stumps ended at a matching diagonal slant. It appeared that whatever had done this had taken them both off in one fell swoop.

Ed thought about it… then decided to ask later. There were more important things to worry about.

"General, it'd sure be nice if you'd fill us in on what the hell's happened since we left. Why has the Central Army turned into a bunch of Nazis? What happened to Mister Hughes' house?"

"Lot of good answers to all of those questions. And you can drop the 'General.' As of two years ago, the Amestrian Military doesn't exist anymore."

Mustang grabbed a piece of metal siding leaning against the basement wall. He pushed it to the side. Rollers on the top and bottom could be heard grinding. Beyond the metal siding was a dirt tunnel, braced with wooden supports. The tunnel took a sharp right turn out of sight.

There was also another familiar face. "Well if it ain't the Fullmetal brat. As I live and breathe."

Bald, trainjacker and former ringleader of the Eastern Liberation Front, rose from his stool. His hair and goatee now graying, automail gun-arm whirring at his side. He'd apparently seen a good mechanic.

Ed and Al bristled. "And what is _he _doing here??"

Mustang smiled wearily. "Calm down, Fullmetal. That's one of our heavy-hitters you're messing with."

"Heavy-Hitters?"

Mustang's smile faded. "You ever heard the phrase 'The Enemy of my Enemy is my Friend?'"

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Jean Havoc stretched contently in that nice period between awake and asleep. Even in the middle of a war like this, it was nice to be able to sleep in.

The sleeping figure in the sheets next to him groaned quietly. She wrapped the sheets closer around her body and slept onward. Havoc laid an arm across her, stroking her brown hair with his other hand.

Loud, rapid footsteps could be heard coming up the hall. The door was flung open with a _bang_. In a flash, Havoc had the handgun out of his nightstand drawer and aimed at the door.

"Woah! Havoc, it's me! Chill, Chill!"

Havoc sighed, lowering the gun. "Breda, are you nuts? What are you doing, waking people up like this? I was sleeping."

Breda waved his arms madly. "Never mind that! Havoc, you gotta get up!"

"Are we being attacked?"

"No, but-"

The blonde lay back down. "Then go away, _please?_ I'm dead this morning, go away."

"Fullmetal's back."

Havoc paused. A single _Hold-That-Thought_ finger extended above the bed. "Repeat that."

"Full. Metal. Is. Back."

Havoc sat up. "Okay, that's important."

"You want me to-"

"Never mind, I'll get it myself." Havoc reached out and grabbed the handle of the chair next to his bed, hauling the heavy thing over. He pushed himself out of bed and plopped into the chair.

The mousy girl in the bed raised her head slightly. The pillow was perched on top of her brown hair. "Jean?" she asked sleepily. "What's going-"

Havoc reached down and yanked the metal lever. The wheelchair unlocked. "Sheska, get up. Ed's back."

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The room was cold, and dimly lit. The cold was obvious enough, this entire facility appeared to have been alchemically dug through the ground beneath Central. The only light in this room came from a dim bulb that hung from the ceiling. It was a wonder they were able to get electric power down here.

The room was larger than the others, obviously meaning to serve as their meeting room. A long, collapsible table stood in the middle, assorted mismatched chairs lined around it.

"Sorry about the furniture," Mustang said, leaning his chair back on two legs. "We're on a bit of a shoestring."

Across the table from him sat, from left to right, Al, Ed, and Noa. Bald stood by the door, arms crossed.

"_Now_ will you tell us what's going on, Mustang? One minute I'm sitting in my room; the next, I'm back here with a huge, ugly Ishbalan pointing a gun at me, and the country's gone all backwards on me!"

Mustang sighed. "It's been a long four years, Fullmetal, so sorry if I get any dates wrong.

"Four years ago, about six months after you two left for the second time, we started getting reports of stuff going on in Drachma. This group calling themselves the Drachman Socialist Workers Party, or the Nazis, was getting pretty popular around Drachman cities. They were using the same symbol that we found on the bodies of the armored soldiers that came through the Gate. They called it a Swastika. We figured it was just some copycat nutjob stirring up trouble.

"Then, a couple of months later, their leader, a guy named Luther Svenhurst, staged a coup. His men marched on the tavern where some Drachman politicians were having dinner, and talked them into marching against Drachma's Capital City."

Ed's eyes widened as he listened to this horror story. Even now, Equivalent Exchange was at work. Hitler's Beer Hall Putsch had failed, so this Svenhurst guy's plan to do the same thing worked.

"Svenhurst and his Nazis took control of Drachma, with Svenhurst in the driver's seat. Three months later, their tanks rolled into Amestris. Major Armstrong's sister, Olivia, was in charge of the Northern line of defense at Briggs Mountain. She and her soldiers held the line for four days before Svenhurst took the stronghold. He had her taken back to Drachma, where, from what I can tell, she was executed by firing squad.

"Even after Briggs fell, we still could have won if it hadn't been for Hakuro. Remember that asshat General Hakuro? About twenty percent of Amestris' Military deserted to go join the Nazi Party, and he practically led the charge to kiss Svenhurst's ass. We're up to our elbows in traitors, the Nazis are taking us town by town, and Svenhurst's just sitting there looking smug with Hakuro on his left and that huge Ishbalan lug on his right. Don't even ask where the Ishbalan guy came from, we don't know anything about him.

"You probably didn't know, but King Bradley promoted Hakuro to Lieutenant Fuhrer just before he died, so after Bradley died, the chain of command fell to Hakuro. It was only a while before the other generals started fighting over who got the seat, but it didn't matter; Hakuro already knew a lot of Amestris' secrets and weaknesses. Once he joined Svenhurst, the Nazis practically knew what we were doing before we did.

"Then, around this time two years ago, our desperate leaders proposed a peace treaty. Svenhurst agreed. Idiots. The moment he arrived, Svenhurst revealed the guards in the room to be working for him. He had the entire board of those protocol-worshipping relics executed on the spot. Probably the quickest coup in history. He had those banners hanging from the building before the day was out. Central's been under Nazi control for two years since then."

The room was silent. Noa was weeping. Ed didn't blame her. Leave one hateful world for one you've dreamed of coming to, and it's just as bad.

Al spoke for the first time. "And this is all that's left? A handful of soldiers and alchemists fighting alone?"

"I'm afraid so. There's me, Bald, Psiren, Russell, and a few others. Hawkeye is here, Fuery, Breda, Falman, Havoc- all of my unit made it through."

"Though not necessarily in one piece," the new voice chimed in.

The Elrics spun to face the door. There, in a wheelchair, broken but still recognizable, was former 2nd Lieutenant Jean Havoc. Sheska stood behind him, hands on the wheelchair handles. Both were still in their pajamas.

Ed and Al leapt to their feet. "Lieutanant Havoc! Sheska!"

Noa remained in her seat. She recognized that this was the two brother's moment, since they hadn't seen these people in God-knew-how-long. She had no right to interfere. Mustang remained seated as well, quietly eyeing Noa. She seemed strangely familiar.

Sheska grabbed Al in what was as close to a bear hug as she could get. "Welcome back, both of you! So what happened? Did the aliens do anything?"

Havoc laughed heartily. "Six years, and you're still stuck on that, aren't you, baby!"

Ed froze. _That _was a nickname he thought he'd never hear Jean Havoc use on a woman. "Baby?"

Both grinning, Sheska and Havoc raised their right hands. Each wore a ring on their second finger.

Ed laughed loudly, smacking Havoc on the back. "Congrats, Lieutenant Havoc! Guess you finally found someone Mustang could steal from ya!"

Ed suddenly felt something slam into his midsection. A second later, he hit the ground on his back. A mass of blonde hair rustled in his face. "Ed, you moron!"

Ed froze. "Winry?"

The blonde mechanic hugged her dearest friend closer to her, tears in her eyes. "Welcome home, Ed."

Ed hugged Winry closer to him. Al stood, watching quietly.

"I took good care of my automail this time."

Winry laughed through her tears. "You better have!"

"Looks like someone's happy you're back."

Ed froze again. "Rose??"

A tan hand appeared near his face. His eyes traveled upward.

Rose Thomas' kind eyes stared down at him from behind a set of pink bangs. "It's been six years. You didn't even say hello last time."

Winry shifted to the side, slowly got to her feet. She turned and hugged the younger Elric brother tightly. "Al, great to see you too." Al slowly wrapped his arms around the mechanic's body.

Ed reached up slowly. He clasped Rose's brown hand in his steel hand. She _yanked_ him to his feet and wrapped him in yet another hug, the third in under a minute. Ed hugged her with one arm. Reaching off to the side with the other, he gently pulled Winry and Al over.

The four friends shared an embrace, reunited at last.

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_Central Headquarters_

The Ishbalan Giant stalked down the long corridor that he had traversed many times before. He gently ran his tongue along the inside of his shredded cheek. Long, black surgical stitches lined the side of his face obscenely. The side of his face was scrunched slightly.

Reaching the doors, the Giant shoved both heavy doors open with a grand, theatrical flourish.

"Ah, Adam. Welcome back." Said Luther Svenhurst from his spot behind the former Fuhrer's oak desk.

Adam, for that was indeed the Ishbalan behemoth's name, grinned, eye twitching from the pain it caused. "At yer service, Commander."

The Fuhrer's office had been completely redesigned. The green curtains were now a deep, rich red, to match the banners outside. Two huge portraits dominated the wall above Svenhurst's desk: to the left, the Fuhrer Adolf Hitler. To the right, Dietlinde Eckhart.

The woman in red seated on the couch grinned. "What happened to your face? Looks much better than it used to."

Adam grinned back at the joke. "Shut yer yap, Claire. I'm getting there." He turned to face Svenhurst again, taking on an official air.

"Commander Svenhurst, the plan went exactly as planned. The farmer responded quite well to my preference of using stick over carrot. The homunculus was bought back as planned. I've got some soldiers prepping it for us right now."

"And the farmer's wife and child?"

"Please, we never had his wife and brat. As far as they know, daddy dearest went to East City two days ago like he said he would They won't miss him for a couple of days, not that it matters. I had my guys dump him in a ditch somewhere.

"However… there was a little something unexpected. Right after the homunculus appeared, three other people appeared."

Svenhurst's eyebrow cocked. "More homunculi?"

"No- three actual living, breathing, talking people. They were practically kids- two boys and a girl. The girl had dark skin and hair. Looked like she could've been from Liore. The boys were blonde, about four years or so apart. One of 'em had a ponytail."

Svenhurst leapt to his feet. "The older boy, the one with the ponytail- did he have an automail arm?"

Adam shrugged. "Hell, I don't know. I started askin' him how he got there, I didn't really have time to check for identifying scars or anything like that. I'd barely opened my mouth when the younger kid sliced in open with a freakin' bottle."

The third man sitting on the other couch chuckled. He was clad in a black sleeveless shirt, black pants and shoes, and a long, black trenchcoat that stretched down to his shins. An ahoge sprouted from his forehead.

Adam turned, looking angry. His dreadlocks bounced around his shoulders. "Something funny, Sadism?"

Sadism, as the fellow was apparently named, shrugged dramatically. "I dunno, maybe it's the fact that Adam Leonis, the great Ishbalan war hero, got beaten by a kid. Let me at him, I'll take care of the big bad kid just for you, Adam."

The woman named Claire sighed. She wore a red jacket over a green shirt. A short pair of red pants revealed two long, shapely legs ending in a pair of fashionable hiking boots. She had cut her raven hair herself, in a style that would, eighty years and a world away, become known as a Pixie cut. She had seen this argument many times. "Go easy on the big guy, Sadism. As the old saying goes, appearances can deceive. I seem to recall teaching _you _that lesson the first time we met."

Svenhurst was deep in thought. Claire turned her head. "Hmm? What's the matter, boss?"

Svenhurst shook his head. "When I was with the Thule Society, we met a boy who matches Adam's description. He said he was from this side. His name was Edward Elric. But I don't see how he could have possibly come through the Gate…"

Suddenly, the two doors to the office swung open again. A Nazi footsoldier stood there. "Commander Svenhurst, sir!"

Snapped from his train of thought, Svenhurst turned. "Hmm? What is it?"

"We've finished prepping the Homunculus for you, sir." The soldier stepped aside to reveal the person behind him.

The woman was clad in a long, black dress that reached to her ankles. A long pair of black gloves stretched to just below her shoulders. Her black hair was wavy, and had been tied into a low ponytail. Her eyes were cold and empty, even as she smiled warmly.

The homunculus bowed, curtsying. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Commander Svenhurst."

Svenhurst smiled. "Wonderful, wonderful!" He motioned to the soldier to leave. The soldier closed the doors behind him. Grinning broadly, Svenhurst walked with a definite spring in his step, took the homunculus by the hand, and shook it vigorously. "So, my dear, what can you do?"

The homunculus smiled gently.

Then, without so much as a warning, she was gone.

Svenhurst jumped. So did most of the others in the office. The homunculus was, quite simply, gone.

The bottle of wine at the small bar area in the corner began to float in midair. It poured itself into a waiting glass. Three cubes of ice hopped into the glass. The glass then floated across the room, toward the couch where Sadism sat. The cushion next to him visibly depressed as the homunculus reappeared, glass of wine in hand, next to Sadism. She smiled a _Ta-Dah_ sort of smile.

Svenhurst began to clap, slowly, a hearty grin marking his face. "Bravo, my dear, bravo!" He sauntered back to his desk. "And such a fine idea!" He raised the glass of cognac he had been drinking. The Homunculus raised hers in kind. Claire got up and walked to the bar to get herself a drink.

"Gentlemen, ladies, on this fine day, I welcome the newest addition to our brotherhood… Spite."

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**This last scene was originally going to be at the end of the previous chapter, but not only was it poorly written, but it also didn't fit in, like I said. Since it needed rewriting anyway, I held off, and I think I did far better this time around.**

**I had a bit of a hard time coming up with new names for Homuculi. The seven sins were already done, and Apathy's been done to death by fanfic writers. Plus, isn't apathy kinda close to sloth? I dunno, maybe it's just me.**


	5. Introspections on a Metal Alchemist

**Disclaimer: **_**Fullmetal Alchemist **_**and the majority of characters described herein are property of Hiromu Arakawa and Studio Bones. Luther Svenhurst and other OCs belong to me.**

**I have no excuse for this later than late update. However, I would like to thank ZAP IS ZAK for kickstarting my motivation with your review. **

**1-2-3-4-5-4-3-2-1**

"Ed- wha- she- I-"

Ed allowed his forehead to fall into his open hand. _Stupid. You should have seen this coming._

To his and Al's right, stood Noa, eyes wide and mouth agape, sputtering incoherently.

To their left, stood Rose, eyes and mouth also wide and agape, also sputtering incoherently.

Aside from their clothes and the color of Rose's bangs, one could not tell the difference between the two.

Mustang leaned back into his chair, wide grin gracing his features. He chuckled at the sight.

There was a long silence.

Then, both Rose and Noa turned simultaneously to Ed.

"ED, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT??"

The two looked at each other again, both surprised at the echo.

Ed raised his hands in the universal _Calm Down, Calm Down_ gesture. "Sorry, girls. I should have told you two about this. In the world I wound up in, there's a copy of everyone who has ever existed in this world, and vice versa. Rose, I just happened to meet that world's version of you. Rose, this is Noa. Noa, this is Rose."

Slowly, the two doppelgangers turned to face each other again. Like a bad comedy routine, the two slowly raised an arm- Noa her left, Rose her right- and slowly touched their fingertips to each others, their faces broadcasting their dumbfoundedness. Winry stood off to the side, watching this spectacle with a bemused look on her face.

Ed's forehead came in sharp contact with his palm once again. This whole thing really was like a bad comedy routine. The only thing that could make this worse would be-

"OH, EDWARD ELRIC, HOW LOOONG IT HAS BEEN!!!"

"Oh, nooo…"

Ed was swept into the familiar crushing hug of Major Alex Armstrong, signature sparkles shining brighter than ever. Ed choked for air as he listened to the audible sound of his bones popping.

Al jogged over. "Calm down, Major, calm dow-" he was cut off as Armstrong swept Al into the same bone-cracking hug. Al's mouth hung open as he made a sort of gagging sound.

Suddenly, a loud _thud_ interrupted Armstrong's reverie. He loosened his chokehold on the Elric brothers.

Both Rose and Noa had fainted dead away.

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A small-ish party was held in the Rebel Headquarters that night. Since the base was underground, they could do things like this, but they couldn't get _too _loud.

However, this was a quite momentous occasion. The legendary Alchemist of the People, the Fullmetal Alchemist, had returned. This would have been cause to celebrate at any time, Nazis or no Nazis.

Despite the (admittedly small) volume restrictions, the rebels were able to make do quite nicely.

In spite of everything, Ed found himself smiling. Al had once said something about how pleased one feels when you see someone you haven't seen in ages. Ed couldn't quite remember the exact wording, though. Shame, it had been a really nice metaphor.

Rose and Noa had woken up (at the same time, of course) and managed to talk to each other without passing out again. Ed had had to step out for several minutes so he wouldn't start laughing. He had stood hunched over in the hallway, hand over his mouth as he forced the chuckles back down his throat. Bald had given him an odd look, but said nothing.

Ed leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down to sit with his knees up. Across the room, Rose and Noa were chatting it up with each other. Since they had woken, they hadn't stopped talking to each other. It turned out that they had a lot in common.

Al staggered over, a small, laughing form clutched to his back. "Hey Brother! Look who it is!"

The Mighty Elicia Hughes sat atop her great steed Alphonse, laughter shining in her eyes as they fell upon Ed. She hopped down off of Al's piggyback ride and wrapped her arms around Ed's waist. She hugged him tightly. Ed ruffled her hair.

"Wow, Elicia, you've really grown since I last saw you. How old are you now?"

The (indeed much taller) Elicia held up both hands. "I'm nine years old!"

Ed had to keep himself from fainting from the sheer innocent cuteness.

Winry suddenly appeared over the nine-year-old's shoulder. She rested her hand on the shoulder in question. "Elicia, why don't you show Ed your leg?"

Elicia's mouth opened in the 'oh' expression. She reached down and grabbed the right leg of the pair of jeans she was wearing. Up went the pants leg, down went the sock.

Elicia's right ankle and foot had been replaced by cold, steel automail. This automail was obviously extremely advanced- a bit better than Ed's, actually.

After a beat, Ed feigned amazement. "Wow, Elicia! That's, that's pretty cool!"

Elicia laughed and let the pants leg drop back down. "It's not that cool. Winry says you've had yours for years now."

Winry pointed off to one side. "Elicia, I think your mama is calling."

"Coming, mama!" Elicia ran off. Winry sat down next to Ed, back to the wall. "She actually took up alchemy while you were gone. She gave it up a while ago. Got bored of it, you know how kids are."

Ed took a sip of his drink. He immediately spewed it out, hacking. "What is this?! Horse piss??"

"It's beer. You do realize you're above the drinking age now."

Ed wiped his mouth. "I've never actually tried the stuff before."

A pause.

"Did you make Elicia's leg for her?"

"Yeah. I also gave Baldy some upgrades for him machine-gun arm."

"Baldy??"

Winry shrugged. "It's a nickname. Cain- Rose's son- called him that once, someone else heard, and everyone's been calling him that since then."

"Did Granny help you at all?"

Winry stared at the floor. "She… uh…"

Ed blinked. "I… I'm sorry."

"s' alright.

"…How did Elicia… you know…"

"It was about two months after Svenhurst invaded. You saw how her's and Gracia's house was bombed like that? Gracia was out at the time, and Elicia was caught in the blast. Blew her leg right off. Apparently, Gracia walked right into her burning home, carried Elicia out to the car, and drove her to the hospital. When I came to visit, she told me she wanted a metal leg just like yours. It was actually pretty cute, at the time."

"Anyone else here got automail I shoud know about?"

Winry shook her head. "Not really. Since it's just Elicia and Bald, I don't really have much chance to work on automail these days. And you too, now. Which reminds me, drop by my room tomorrow. You're way past due for your automail checkup, mister!"

Grinning, the blonde mechanic disappeared into the party.

"Cain, come here. There's someone I want you to meet."

Ed turned at another familiar voice. Rose was gently ushering a young tan boy of about seven years old towards him. He was small, and had longish black hair that hung to about halfway down his neck. He needed a haircut.

"Cain, this is Edward. Remember me telling you about Edward?"

Cain nodded, a small smile on his face. "Only all the time, mom."

Rose gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Ed, this is my son, Cain."

Ed smiled. "Wow, Cain? I remember when you were still in diapers."

Cain turned to Rose. "Mom, can I go play with Elicia?"

She nodded. "Sure, sweetie." The young boy ran off into the party, searching for his friend.

Rose sighed, and sat down in the spot Winry had just vacated. "In diapers, huh? Man, time really does fly, doesn't it?"

Ed nodded, setting his cup of beer on the floor next to him. "He's a cute kid."

"Mm." Rose nodded, her pink bangs shifting. She glanced at Ed's quarter-full cup. "Are you going to drink that?" The Elric brother shook his head.

Rose took the cup and finished it's contents in a couple of gulps. She stared at the cup, as if contemplating something.

Then she placed the cup on the ground, clapped her hands together, and touched the cup. With a flash, the cup disappeared into the light of transmutation.

Ed gaped. "Did… did you…"

Rose blinked. Then, realizing, she shook her head. "Don't worry." She held her hands up, palms facing out.

A pair of simple transmutation circles were tattooed onto each. Nothing fancy, just the usual details needed to make any transmutation work. The ink was white, standing out against her tan skin.

"A little while after you left- for the second time- I started practicing alchemy myself. Figured these would make it a bit easier. Clap clap, ta-dah."

Ed reached down and picked up the now-transmuted cup. It was now a miniature statue of the formerly-worshipped Sun God Leto. "Nice job."

Rose shrugged. "I've had practice."

Ed sighed, and pushed himself to his feet. His knees cracked like gunshots. "Hey, have you seen Russell? I need to insult his mustache some more."

Rose glanced around the party. "I think I saw him…" She pointed suddenly. "There he is." Ed turned. Russell Tringham, still carrying that bouquet of flowers from earlier, disappeared around a corner.

"Mom! Come look at this!"

Rose stood up. "I've gotta go- Cain's calling me. Coming, sweetie!" She disappeared into the crowd.

Ed slipped through the cluster of people to the hallway Russell had disappeared down. The hallway was dark and cool- no one had been down this way.

The hall was long and twisting. Ed began to wonder if Russell had gone down a turn that he had missed.

He turned yet another corner- and there he was. A small metal ladder led to the surface, and Russell's pant leg was just disappearing through it.

Ed quickened his pace. His rapid footsteps echoed in his ears.

He placed a hand on the ladder and hoisted himself up. The trapdoor was made of very thin stone, with a metal ring on the lower side.

"Hey Russ-"

The sudden light blinded Edward, and he held his arm in front of his as he squinted.

His eyes adjusted.

They were above ground. The sun was setting on the horizon, filling the world with yellow and red, with perhaps the slightest tint of purple. However, this was not what held Ed's attention.

The trapdoor opened up into a graveyard that was just a few blocks from the Hughes' house. It was nothing special- maybe an acre. Maes Hughes was actually buried in a graveyard several miles from here, in an open field drenched in sunlight. This one was walled in, with a gate to allow access. The wall protected them from the eyes of anyone in the street.

Russell stood several yards ahead of him, the flower clutched at his side. The headstone before him said all that needed to be said.

**FLETCHER TRINGHAM**

**BELOVED BROTHER**

Russell stared down at the headstone. The wind blew his blonde hair around his face. The flowers rustled in their wrapping.

"Brother."

Ed turned. Three figures rested by the wall of the cemetary- Al, Bald, and Jean Havoc, in his wheelchair. Havoc motioned for Ed to join them.

Ed slid down the wall next to them, much as he had done in the party.

"He comes out here every week, y'know." Bald spoke, gesturing with his metal hand. "He blames himself."

Ed turned. "For Fletcher?"

"Yeah. They both joined our little group of Rebels when we were still getting our bearings. We were sloppy, disorganized. Fletcher got gunned down in the street by a pair of Nazi's. He was arguing with them. Russell never told me what they were arguing about."

Ed stared at the line Tringham brother. "We thinks he should have protected him."

Havoc stubbed his cigarette in the dirt next to his chair. "I always feel so morbid when he comes up here when I'm up here. This place is a quiet place to relax, so I come up here often. Whenever someone comes here while I'm here, I feel like one of those jerk-offs who go to carnivals to laugh at the freaks."

Ed blinked. "How'd you get up here, anyway?"

Havoc gestured with his thumb. "Bald carried me. Bought my chair up the ladder, then me. We actually come up here a lot. Bald's a great guy once you get to know him."

"You do realize I held a trainload of passengers hostage once?" Bald grunted.

"Eh, let bygones be bygones, I say. 'Sides, that main hostage was that traitor Hakuro. You have my deepest respect."

There was a long silence.

Havoc rummaged in his pocket for his packet of cigarettes. "Hey Bald, got a light?"

Bald pointed his automail thumb upward. He unscrewed a small cap at the end, then quickly bent his thumb. A small flare of fire jumped from the end. Havoc held his cigarette into the tiny flame.

Bald blew the fire on the end of his thumb out. As he screwed the tip back on, he grinned at Ed's wide, staring eyes. "You like? Yer girlfriend Rockbell gave me that. Did a whole bunch of other stuff too- gave me my gun back, I think there might be a buzzsaw somewhere in here. My arm's like a swiss army knife these days."

Ed snorted. "Still, seems like a pretty overdramatic way to light a tiny cigarette."

Bald laughed boisterously. "It ain't the size of the cigar, cupcake. It's how ya light it."

**1-2-3-4-5-4-3-2-1**

**Hopefully, I won't too lazy this time. See you next chapter!**


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